


one fool at least

by ahausonfire (thisiswherethefishlives)



Series: Dumb Boys Being Dumb ft. The Poindexter Family [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Dumb Boys Being Dumb ft. The Poindexter Family, Eventual Communication, M/M, Minor Angst, Misunderstandings, Prompt Fill, accidental proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10332317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/ahausonfire
Summary: Living with Will in the aftermath of their getting together… well, it wasn’t as big of a transition as Derek had feared. They still fought, and they joked around, and they drove each other up a wall along with everyone else in a half-mile radius. The big difference was the tenderness that ran throughout - the hand-holding, and the kissing, and the quiet moments when they could just be in the same room without saying a thing.Part of Derek - the part that he liked to hide beneath his chill and his aesthetic - had been afraid that it wouldn’t last beyond the summer. He had been worried that Will would pull back, or that their friends wouldn’t get it, or that he would ruin everything before it really even started. He had been so scared, but then Will would catch his eye to shoot him a smile, and all the doubts would get muffled… there’s not much that Derek won’t do for that smile.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **This story was inspired by the following prompt and my desire to pick back up with the Poindexter family:**  
>     
> prompt: my sister is coming to visit and she thinks we're dating and i kinda didn't correct her and now my entire family thinks we're engaged please help me

**_One fool at least in every married couple. - Henry Fielding_ **

* * *

Living with Will in the aftermath of their getting together… well, it wasn’t as big of a transition as Derek had feared. They still fought, and they joked around, and they drove each other up a wall along with everyone else in a half-mile radius. The big difference was the tenderness that ran throughout - the hand-holding, and the kissing, and the quiet moments when they could just be in the same room without saying a thing.

Part of Derek - the part that he liked to hide beneath his chill and his aesthetic - had been afraid that it wouldn’t last beyond the summer. He had been worried that Will would pull back, or that their friends wouldn’t get it, or that he would ruin everything before it really even started. He had been so scared, but then Will would catch his eye to shoot him a smile, and all the doubts would get muffled… there’s not much that Derek won’t do for that smile.

When the rest of the team first found out that they had gotten together over the summer and that Derek had been pretty much adopted into the Poindexter clan, they had chirped him mercilessly for pretty much their entire junior year. Some of it had been funny ( _‘Brah, it’s just like in Harry Potter when Mr. Weasley had to count his children before he realized Harry wasn’t one of his own’_ ) and some of it was really fucking rude ( _‘Dude, I know you think big families are the shit, but there are easier ways to go native than fucking Poindexter’_ ), but for the most part it was just nice. The people that had mattered, Chowder and Farmer, Bitty and everyone else that graduated beforehand… they were supportive, and that was was all that mattered. That, and the way that Will would go out of his way to hold Derek’s hand or invade Derek’s space with every chirp… it was enough to take the sting out of even the sharpest jabs.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/42385276045/in/photostream/)

* * *

“Hey,” Will whispers, the gust of his breath fanning against Derek’s skin (and it’s electric), “it’s time to wake up.”

Always the contrarian, Derek tries to burrow deeper into the blankets, but then there are clever fingers sneaking underneath the fabric in order to tickle and poke and prod and pinch, and there is no escape. Not for the first time, Derek asks himself if it’s worth it - if the past year and a half of being with Will has really been worth the indignities of waking up on time, and cold feet under the blankets at night, and disapproving glares when Derek tries to write through the night - and not for the first time, Derek knows with every certainty that being with Will is worth it all.

“I love you,” he says, voice rough and tender from sleep, “but if you don’t stop tickling me I’m going to pee the bed.”

Immediately the onslaught of tickles ends, and Will’s hands come to rest over Derek’s heart instead, and they’re so, so warm.

“Don’t fuckin’ pee the bed, Nurse, or you’ll be sleeping alone for the rest of the semester.” He presses a kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose before slithering out of bed, freckles bold and bright against the pale expanse of his skin, and he’s gorgeous even when he’s being kind of a dick. It’s only fair though, since he’s _Derek’s_ dick.

Speaking of dick, Derek’s brain wakes up further when Will shimmies out of his briefs, and yup, it’s not just his brain that’s waking up at this point, but then Will’s throwing a smirk over his shoulder and walking towards the bathroom with a ridiculous swing to his step.

“If you don’t get out of bed you’re gonna miss all the hot water, Nurse, and all those poetic thoughts in your head are gonna freeze, and _then_ where will you be?”

With his last word, Will closes the door behind him, and here’s the thing.

Part of Derek - the lazy part that did just fine before getting with Will, thank you very much - is tempted to go back to sleep for the twenty minutes or so that the shower will be occupied. Of course, that part of Derek is _dumb_ , which is the main reason why he nearly falls out of their bed in his haste to join his boyfriend in the shower.

Tripping over his pajamas and his boxers and _Will’s_ underwear, the path across the room is fraught with danger, but then he’s twisting the doorknob, and steam is billowing out when he opens the door, and Will is standing under the water with his hands in his hair, and Derek is in love.

He steps into the shower, and he takes over shampooing Will’s hair, and he luxuriates in the feeling of Will’s hands as they lather soap against his skin, and Derek knows in the moment that this is a forever love.

And he wants it every day.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/28419602257/in/photostream/)

* * *

When the team had found out about how often Derek would Skype and text with the Poindexters, even _Bitty_ had given Derek the side-eye (which is exactly why Derek hasn’t told anyone about his Snapchat lessons with Mrs. P, which, once she learns, will be his greatest accomplishment). The thing of it is, he’s not ashamed that everyone else thinks he’s a little extra.

Because, like, from the moment he showed up at Will’s front door the summer before junior year, the Poindexters pretty much adopted him, and he _loves_ them for that. He loves being a part of the family, and he loves that _they_ love that he loves Will… it’s just a lot of love.

So, _yeah_. Derek loves the Poindexters, and he trusts them to have his back, and that’s why - on a quiet Thursday morning when he _knows_ Will’s at class - he turns to Will’s sister-in-law for help.

The Skype call only rings twice before Kim answers, and immediately Derek’s at ease, because she smiles like she’s happy to see him, and he’s said it before, but he’ll say it again - he _loves_ the Poindexters.

“Hey Derek! I just put the baby down for his afternoon nap, and I was about to put together a list of possibilities for book club. I don’t know about you, but I need a break from the heavy, and even though I totally trust your judgement I’m not about to read ‘Invisible Monsters’ anytime soon.”

“Look, it was Uncle Bob’s idea to read along with the Oprah’s Book Club list. You can’t even blame me for the last few books.”

She laughs at that, making a show of rolling her eyes before perching her chin on her knuckles.

“As much as I’d love to rehash the joys of reading ‘She’s Come Undone’ in general, let alone relive the discussion we had with my husband’s _uncle_ , I’d much rather talk about why you called this emergency Skype sesh. What’s going on, lil’ bro adjacent?”

“I, uh,” even with all the preparation and thought that went into this, Derek finds himself tongue-tied, because this is a huge fucking deal, “I need your advice. Because, like… I’ve been thinking about the future, and about me and Will, and, like… you know I love him, right?”

There’s a small, excited little smile on Kim’s face when she nods, and her encouragement is enough to spur Derek on.

“I just… I think it’s time that we take the next step. Because we’re gonna graduate soon, and I just- I just love him so much, and I want to keep waking up next to him after we’ve graduated, y’know?”

“ _Oh my gosh, I knew it!!!_ ” Kim cries out, voice loud and tinny and more than a little shrill through the speakers. Somewhere in the background, Derek can make out the dulcet tones of Michael screeching, and it’s just a lot to handle through his headphones is all. “ _Oh_ my _gosh_ , Matt owes me so much money, I _knew_ that this was going to happen, and I _knew_ that it was going to be you to pull the trigger, and I am so excited!”

Michael’s screams pick up in pitch, the kind of piercing wail that only seems to happen when babies know their parents are having a good time, and Derek knows that he’s wincing, but just because Will’s brother wanted another kid doesn’t mean Derek wants to listen to the baby crying.

“Uh, Kim? Don’t you have to check on the baby?”

She waves a hand at that, as if Michael screaming is par for the course.

“He’s teething,” she says, as if that explains everything, and maybe it does, but Derek doesn’t have a chance to ask before Kim’s plowing forward with the conversation at hand. “Really, Der, he’s _fine_. I’m more concerned about how you’re going to ask Willy to-”

“Mo- _ooooom_ ,” Hannah yells from just off-screen. She pops up in Derek’s view after a minute with Gracie in tow, who’s just as serious and quiet as ever with her hair up in pigtails. Only Gracie notices when Derek waves, but from the indignant flush on Hannah’s face it’s clear that this isn’t the time to say hello. “Olivia won’t let us play with her. I told her she _had_ to or you would yell at her, and she got angry and packed a bag, and now she’s leaving. She said she was never coming _back_ , and she can’t play with us if she’s gone forever.”

The sound of a door slamming shut comes from just off-screen, and just like that Kim’s up and running out of the room. The twins run after her, leaving Derek sitting there with only Michael’s screams to keep him company.

He doesn’t bother waiting too long, typing out a quick ‘ttyl’ into the chat box before logging off before throwing on a sweatshirt and heading down the stairs and out towards campus with a spring in his step. Because even if he didn’t get to pick Kim’s brain for _how_ to do it, her excitement over Derek asking Will to get an apartment with him after college is enough to reassure him that it’s a good idea.

It’s the _best_ idea, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/42385276245/in/photostream/)

* * *

For as long as they’ve known each other Will has _always_ bitched about having a big family.

At this point, Derek’s heard it all: they’re too nosy; there’s no such thing as privacy; he’s always expected to babysit; there are too many people to buy Christmas presents for; it’s always someone’s birthday…

There’s _always_ something for Will to complain about, and maybe they’re legit complaints if it’s all you’ve ever known, but… to be completely honest? Derek met the Poindexters expecting something horrible and overwhelming, and instead he fell in love. Because for all that his parents love him, they’re just not _around_ \- physically or emotionally - and it took a long time for Derek to come to terms with that. To _accept_ that about his family. For a long time it was an ache that couldn’t be soothed, but at some point between Derek staying the summer last year and now… well, shit, it’s hard to be lonesome for family when you’ve got family in spades.

With the Poindexters? It feels like his cup is overflowing, and it’s the best.

Because all the things that Will complains about? Derek soaks it up like a sponge.

Like, it was only a week ago, but from the time that Derek Skyped with Kim, she made sure that the entire family knew about his plan to ask Will to cohabitate with him. He _knows_ what Will would say about that if he was involved - he’s bemoan how everyone was in his business - but the thing is… Derek loves it.

Because ever since he told Kim, the rest of the Poindexters have joined the dialogue, and never in Derek’s life has he felt this loved and accepted. Like, he knows what Farmer’s been going through with her folks ever since she announced her plans to move in with Chowder after school. They’ve been giving her a hard time about ‘living in sin’ with her ‘ethnic boyfriend’, and it’s such a huge relief to know that not only are the Poindexters okay with the two of them moving in together, they are excited about it and they are _invested_.

Like, Mrs. P is _all_ about romance. Ever since Kim spilled the beans she’s taken to calling Derek once a week to brainstorm ideas for how to pop the question while she prepares dinner for the family ( _“What about little tea lights all over the attic? Some champagne? Oh, gosh, why don’t you drive up to The Falls? I think I saw some ideas on Pinterest the other day, let me get back to you!”_ (and look, Snapchat might be taking awhile to sink in, but Mrs. P’s got entire pages on Pinterest dedicated to romantic ways to set a mood)).

Meanwhile, Kim sends him lists of places that Will’s always wanted to go (which, while tempting would be more likely to get Will to kill him rather than say yes… he lost his damn mind last year when Derek bought them plane tickets to Vegas on a whim… he had refused talk to Derek for a week, only caving when he turned the puppy dog eyes up to eleven); and even the girls want to be a part of it all, offering sage wisdom and deep thoughts (like Hannah when she suggested that Derek just _“tell him to do it and he’ll do it - Willy always does what you tell him to,”_ or Emma when she blushingly told Derek that _“you should be confident however you do it - that’s what Willy likes best about you”_ \- and, like, how can you top that?).

It’s just… it’s amazing, because the Poindexter family is invested in Will’s happiness, and by extension they’re invested in Derek.

It’s a lot.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/42385276345/in/photostream/)

* * *

As much as Derek hates to admit it, Will might have a point about his family. Not in a _bad_ way, or anything, but, like… sometimes all the support and the interest and the love starts to feel a little cluttered. Like it’s only been two months, but the sheer volume of feedback that he’s gotten from the Poindexters - encouraging texts and emails filled with links and suggestions on places to live after graduation and different meals that Will likes and all the best ways to move forward into adulthood - starts bleeding into his midterms and practice time.

It leaves him feeling strung out, like how he gets when he spends too much time working on a poem - how he’ll get caught up in the meter or the rhyme or the metaphor, and how with all these extraneous issues cluttering his mind, he’ll lose the meaning.

The world starts to spin a little faster as everything piles up, and Derek loses the plot.

And just like always, Will throws him a smile or a heated look, and Derek finds it again. Because just like with his poetry, and his anxiety, and his heart, Will grounds him. Physically, emotionally, and mentally - all of it. Will smooths out Derek’s wrinkled mind and helps him think like it’s nothing.

He clears Derek’s head like it’s the easiest thing.

Which is why, after weeks of waffling and planning and debating with the Poindexters, Derek ends up asking Will to move in with him in the middle of practice while they’re still on the ice, panting with exertion and damp with sweat.

It’s not overly romantic (or romantic at all, if Farmer is to be believed later that night when she chirps them into oblivion over beers), and to most it may not be the most memorable of moments, but he and Will aren’t _most_. Because even at their worst - early on when they were all exposed nerves and sharp words - they could always find each other on the ice.

And maybe it would have been better if Derek had said something like _that_ instead of blurting out that he wanted them to move in together after graduation - but the way that Will looks at him, all soft and winded and beautiful, and the way that Will says yes without having to think twice - like it’s a no-brainer… well, Derek doesn’t have time to spend debating how he should have asked, because then he’s got Will skating into his arms, and he’s got the team hooting and hollering and yelling about fines, and Derek is in love.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/42385276395/in/photostream/)

* * *

It’s only later that night when he posts the picture that Chowder had snapped of them right after practice - _Will’s arms wrapped around Derek’s neck, their cheeks pressed together, smiles incandescent and full of promise under the soft, early morning Faber lights - with the caption ‘HE SAID YES!’ beneath it_ \- that Derek starts to realize just how different his life is now that Will’s in his life.

Because the Poindexters are commenting faster than Holster and Rans can keep up their running dialogue of puns and chirps: there’s teasing from the Poindexter girls, and a reminder to call from Mrs. P, and… they’re invested.

It makes Derek think, because he’s not used to it. He’s still not fully used to the warmth that he gets from the Poindexters and the way that just being around Will leaves him settled and happy.

It makes him long for something a little more permanent than being co-signers of a lease. Which… it’s crazy, and it’s too soon, and they’re too young…

But then Will walks into their room with two slices of cherry pie and a bowl of whipped cream, and Derek can’t help but think they’d make it.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/42385276495/in/photostream/)

* * *

“Hey, babe?” Will asks from the hall, just barely loud enough to be heard over the din of Bitty’s new stand mixer. “Do you know why my ma is sending us fabric samples?”

Tearing his eyes away from where Bitty’s slowly adding his wet ingredients (it’s hypnotic as hell, and a genuine treat to watch - honestly, ever since Bitty graduated Derek’s found himself living for the weekends he’d come visit), Derek forces himself onto his feet so that he can better see what Will’s talking about.

“Um, no. I mean, I think she had mentioned sending us a care package,” Derek starts, pausing for a moment to appreciate the sheer volume of fabric that Mrs. P had sent them. It’s an assortment of blacks and whites, with pops of greens and blues peeking out here and there. “If this is what your mom considers a care package, we might need to stage an intervention.”

“Yeah,” Will says, a laugh bubbling just underneath his words, “I don’t even understand what we’re supposed to do with this.”

“Maybe she’s trying to help us plan for the apartment? Like… fabric swatches for a couch or some shit?” It’s a stretch of an idea, and from the look that Will shoots him - all raised eyebrows and quirked lips and god damn, but Derek is in love with this kid - it’s not the most brilliant leap of logic he’s made in his life. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! Your mom’s the one that’s sending us random squares of fabric, I’m just trying to come up with a logical explanation.”

“I don’t know what kind of shit rich parents do, Nurse, but in my family we just go to IKEA for furniture. I mean, unless Ma’s come into some kind of windfall, or your family is in cahoots with her, I can’t imagine that she’d really think we’d be into this kinda shit. I mean, look at this! This fabric actively matches the green of your eyes. I _love_ your eyes, but what kind of extra shit would it be to have furniture that complimented your eye color? Chowder’s just gonna put his feet up on it when he comes to visit, we don’t need to be that extra.”

Even when he’s ranting, Will’s the most gorgeous person that Derek’s ever seen. He’s all flashing eyes and mirthful lips, and Derek gets to _live_ with him. Derek gets to _keep_ him for as long as Will allows… and he’s so damn beautiful.

“You’re not even listening anymore, are you?” Will’s words cut through his reverie like a knife through butter, but they’re not angry. A little bemused, maybe. A little tender, for sure. Challenging? Well, duh.

“Of course I was listening, _William_. You were going on and on about how much you love my eyes.” Will blushes at that, all pretty and pink even as he rolls his eyes and flips Derek the bird, and it just makes Derek want to keep pushing. “You love my eyes so much, you look at this fabric and go all _romantic_ on me. You want to _marry_ my eyes, don’t you?”

Derek honestly hadn’t realized that Will’s blushes could go deeper, but just like magic the pink of his cheeks goes a dark, angry red, and it’s kind of insane. He kind of wants to _touch_ them, just to see if they’re as warm as they look - to see if they’d burn to the touch.

He doesn’t get a chance to check, though, because no sooner does Will’s skin turn dark than Holster comes running in, sliding along the hall in nothing but his socks and a pair of boxers (and really - the dude doesn’t even fucking live here anymore, what the fuck).

“FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOINE!”

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/42385276575/in/photostream/)

* * *

“Okay, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way - because this is not me admitting that you were right and I was wrong - but your family is super hardcore into our business.”

Will snorts in response from where he’s laid out on the bed, the light from his laptop making him look otherworldly in the dim of the attic. “What are they doing now?”

“Kim won’t stop sending me links to ‘starter homes’. Like… I’ve told her that we won’t know where we’re going until you hear back on your job offers, and I’ve _told her_ that we’re looking to rent an apartment, but she keeps sending me postings for houses, and they’re _all_ a forty-five minute drive to her house, or _less_. She’s sent me four emails since I got out of class this morning, and it’s a _lot_ , and why the fuck are you smiling at me?”

“It’s just-” Will’s words fall to the wayside as his lips are overtaken by the smile he apparently can’t control in the face of Derek’s suffering. “Babe, they love you so much. _So_ much, and I can’t even tell you how much that means to me. You’re kinda it for me, Nurse, so sue me for smiling about it all.”

“Don’t even tempt me,” Derek purrs as he gets up from his seat, Kim’s emails forgotten in favor of chirping his boyfriend, “you know I’ve got the family lawyer on speed dial. His name is Reginald, and he’s _very_ good at his job.”

“Yeah?” Will asks, all breathy and soft, eyes trained on Derek even as he shuts his laptop and sets it on the shelf he had installed next to the bed. “Why don’t you tell me more about how you’re gonna sue me?” He rolls over onto his back without breaking eye-contact as Derek gets closer, long fingers making quick work of undoing his shirt buttons - it’s an incredibly unfair move that has Derek stubbing his toe against the bedframe as more and more skin is exposed.

“Oh, _fuck_ , fucking ouch, motherfucker.”

“You gonna sue me for that too, Nurse?” Will asks, like the little shit he is, and Derek has never been more in love.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/41479226760/in/photostream/)

* * *

Ever since Whiskey moved into the Haus he’s helped to fill in the spaces that Bitty had left vacant.

It’s nothing that Derek could have predicted - and really, whoever actively thought it would be a good idea in the first place to give Whiskey their dibs should have their head examined (*cough, cough* _Bitty_ *cough, cough*). After three years he’s just as douchey as ever, and _worse_ , he’s still an active participant in LAX culture… but even though he’s a douche, he helps to fill the gap.

He doesn’t cook (thank god Will had put his foot down last year after Whiskey’s second ‘accidental’ grease fire - seriously, Derek does _not_ trust that kid), but he makes sure that the mail gets distributed every day, and he takes the time to make sure that all the hangers-on and freshman and drunk kids get back to their dorms safe after a kegster, and he always makes sure that everyone’s home at night before locking the doors.

The kid’s still a douche though, and from the way he’s smirking at Derek from the kitchen table - mouth quirked like he knows a secret - it’s clear that he’s feeling his oats today.

“Sup, Whiskey?” He asks, bracing himself for some mean-spirited snark as he crosses the room to grab a Hot Pocket from the freezer.

He’s just not prepared for the nonchalant way that Whiskey leans back, an eyebrow raised precariously as he slides what looks to be a postcard across the table.

“You got mail, Nurse, and it looks like you’re in trouble.”

“What in the fuck, why are you reading my shit Whiskey?”

Whiskey snorts at that, and not for the first time, Derek wants to strangle the kid. “Bro, it’s a _postcard_ \- there’s no such thing as privacy with postcards. If you don’t want us knowing that ‘Gramma Earl’ is gonna kick your ass when she sees you next month, you should probably tell her to invest in envelopes.”

The microwave dings at that point, and before Derek can come up with a witty come-back, Whiskey’s up and striding out of the room. The dick.

With all opportunities to save face tossed out the window, Derek focuses on not burning the roof of his mouth as he takes a closer look at the postcard. On the front, victorian kittens ride in a sleigh pulled by _more_ kittens, and it’s terribly twee and quaint and disconcerting on a lot of levels (like, he didn’t realize that there were subservient classes of kittens? Why the fuck is the one kitten wielding a whip? Why would Gramma Earl send him, a black man in America, this postcard? What the actual fuck?).

The back, though… it’s a different story. In Gramma Earl’s distinctive chicken scratch, Derek can just barely make out a threat on his manhood as well as what looks to be a strongly worded complaint that she hadn’t been there when he had popped the question.

By the time he’s managed to decipher the string of ‘XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO’ beneath her signature (at least, that’s what he _thinks_ she had meant to write) Derek’s managed to thoroughly burn his tongue and his pride.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/41479226830/in/photostream/)

* * *

They’re two weeks away from the Poindexters coming to visit when a package from Uncle Bob gets pressed into Derek’s hands. Again, Whiskey’s got a naughty little smirk on his face, and again, Derek kind of wants to throttle the kid. Instead, he beats a hasty retreat to the attic and thanks the higher powers that Uncle Bob had the good sense not to send him a postcard.

Granted, the fact that he’s sending Derek anything at all… it’s a little weird. In the past they’ve exchanged books, and they’ve got a whole folder in Google Docs where they keep their notes for book club, but at 3”x3” the box that Derek’s holding in his hands right now is too small to be anything off the Oprah’s Book Club list.

Shaking the box doesn’t help either - not even a muffled rattle comes from the cardboard when he throws it against the wall - and it’s with a defeated sigh that he ramps up package-gate to level 2: Actually Having to Do Something Constructive - AKA: rooting through Will’s drawers for his multi-tool.

Ten minutes of cursing and the unnecessary unfolding and refolding of clothes later, Derek carefully runs the blade of the multi-tool along the taped seams of the box to avoid damaging the mysterious parcel inside.

Which.

Apparently all of his care and caution completely unnecessary because Uncle Bob sent him a set of keys?

Not for the first time, Derek finds himself completely flabbergasted by the Poindexter clan. He’s halfway to texting Uncle Bob to tell him as much, but then Will is throwing the door open hard enough for it to ricochet off the wall behind it. He’s breathing hard, and his eyes look like _sex_ , and look - Derek loves Will through all his moods. He loves Will’s sweetness, and how easy Will can be for kisses, and he loves Will’s fire… but this? This is _better_ , because this is how Will gets when he’s got an itch he can’t scratch.

This is how Will gets when he needs to be settled - with Derek’s lips and teeth and tongue - and Derek is more than willing to put in the work.

Uncle Bob can wait.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/41479226950/in/photostream/)

* * *

They win.

It’s their senior year, Will is captain, Derek and Chowder have the A, and they fucking win the Frozen Four.

They’ve got a fucking _trophy_ , but all the celebration falls out of the moment the second that Mrs. P enthusiastically asks to see their rings. Which.

Will shoots a look at him, eyebrows raised like Derek’s gonna know what she’s talking about (and, like really? _This_ is the moment that Will choses to believe in Derek’s ability to make sense of things?) but Derek doesn’t get a chance to ask before the conversation gets picked back up.

“Come on, Helen. They’re modern boys and there’s nothing wrong with them bypassing engagement rings. It’s not like they’re going to forgo wedding bands, right?” Mr. P shoots Derek a cheeky wink. “Besides, you’re going to have months to plan the wedding; we’re here tonight to celebrate some damn fine hockey playing!”

And that-

“We’ll see you boys back at the hotel. Just call when you’re ready for dinner, and we’ll meet in the lobby.” With a final wave, Mr. P starts leading the rest of the Poindexter clan away, and here’s the thing. Five minutes ago? Derek was starving. Right now? Not so much.

“Why does my family think we’re engaged?” Will whispers, the quiet tone of his voice doing nothing to mask the hysteria that’s written all over his face. “Did you- did you propose to me and I just… don’t remember? Did you do it after the last kegster? I- I was so drunk, why would y-”

“Babe. _Babe_ , you need to breathe. I would never do that when you were drinking. When I propose to you, we’re both gonna remember it.”

Some of the panic drains out of Will’s face at that, but from the way his lips are held in a tight line, it’s clear that he’s still freaking out.

“Okay. If you didn’t propose to me, and if I didn’t propose to you, why do my parents think we’re engaged?”

For the first time in a long time, Derek goes to answer and finds himself completely speechless. This one brief conversation with the Poindexters has left him completely stripped of his words, and in the moment, all Derek can do is shrug. From the way that Will’s expression goes soft and tired, it’s pretty clear that he’s not the only one that’s reeling.

But… the thing is, Derek _refuses_ to let this be anything other than a night of celebration. Not after everything they’ve accomplished, and certainly not with the future that they’ve been steadily moving towards. They’re in this. Together.

“Hey, Will… babe, look at me for a sec, okay? We just won the frozen four. We did something that even Jack Zimmermann couldn’t pull off. If we can do that, there’s nothing we can’t do. Let’s go get cleaned up, and then we’ll set the story straight - no fuckin’ sweat.”

The smile that Will shoots at him in response is nothing short of beautiful, and for a moment, Derek allows himself to imagine that they were going off to celebrate their engagement. He allows himself just a minute of pretend before leaning in for a kiss - sweet and comfortable and everything Derek never really knew he wanted until he had it - before heading off towards the showers, Will’s fingers tangled comfortably with his.

They’re going to fix this, and one day they’re all gonna laugh at it.

* * *

Three hours, twenty minutes, and two gin and tonics later, it’s incredibly clear that this isn’t something they’re going to be laughing about any time soon. Not with the way that Will keeps scoffing under his breath as he scrolls through Derek’s Facebook page.

“If you’re gonna say something, can you just _say_ it instead of cursing my existence under your breath while I’m still in the room?”

“I just- Derek, how the hell did you not realize that everyone thought we were engaged? Reading through your statuses, _I’d_ think we were engaged.

“I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You literally posted ‘HE SAID YES’ on your Facebook page when you asked me to move in with you. Derek, that’s not how real people announce that. I’m reading this, and it’s somehow _more_ official looking than it was when Matt proposed to Kim.”

“How would you even know what ‘real’ people post? You’re not even _on_ Facebook.”

Will barks a laugh at that, rough and short and just shy of lunacy. “That’s changing right fuckin’ now, since you obviously can’t be trusted on social media.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t realize-”

“ _Derek_ ,” Will snaps, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m looking at your page right now. Gramma wrote a five paragraph response to your ‘big announcement’. I mean, did you even read this? She literally waxed rhapsodical about how happy she was that we were taking this step together before she died.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna kill Gramma.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna kill Gramma Earl, babe. She’s pretty much the toughest lady I’ve ever met in my life, and that’s before Lardo. We just have to break it to her gently.”

Will doesn’t say anything to that, fingers flying across his keyboard instead. And it kind of sucks, because they haven’t fought like this in a long time. Since before they got together, but right now - the way that Will’s shut off from him, and the way Derek can’t begin to think of a way to fix it - it feels like this won’t be something simple to fix. For the first time in over a year, Will feels far away.

“Babe. I’m sorry, okay? Can you stop typing and just look at me for a second?” It takes a few minutes before Will stops, but he does. He tears his attention from the screen with a sigh, and everything about him looks heavy. It makes Derek _ache_. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. I was just… I was so excited to be starting a future with you, and I love you so much, and I didn’t think, and I’m sorry. Like, beyond sorry. I know that I fucked up, but-”

“We should get married,” Will blurts out, and… that is not what Derek expected at all. “Really. We should just get engaged, and then no one will have to know that this was just a misunderstanding. I mean, it’s crazy, but it would work, right?”

“Um.”

“No, Der, listen.” There’s a frantic gleam on Will’s face as he sets the laptop aside. From there he makes quick work of crossing the distance between them and dropping to his knees, and, look… for the most part?

For the most part there isn’t anything that Derek won’t do for him when he’s down on his knees… but the rest of it? The part of Derek that doesn’t want to get engaged just because he fucked up? It’s got him lurching, but then Will’s reaching up to cradle Derek’s face in his hands, and everything stills.

“Baby, you’re freaking out, and I can see it all over your face. Just… stop for a second and listen, okay? Look, I have a ring. For you. And this isn’t how I saw this happening, but I’ve been carrying a ring around with me for three months, and I’ve been worried that I’d fuck it up, or that it was too early, but everyone already thinks that we did it?

“And Derek, they love you so much. Did you see their faces? They’re so excited to have you be part of the family. Hell, _I’m_ excited to have you be part of the family. If you’d have me, I think we should do it for real.”

“But… I messed up!” Derek can feel the way his voice breaks before it happens - how his throat gets tight and taut and fragile - and all at once he can feel the tears coming. “I messed up, and you can’t go from yelling at me to- to, like, the weakest fucking proposal in the history of proposals.”

Will snorts at that, and even through the tears that are clouding his vision, Derek can see how fond he is in the moment.

“Like you could do better, Nurse.”

And, like… it sounds like a challenge, and it sounds like a plea, and there are very few things that Derek won’t do for Will when he’s down on his knees.

And maybe this thing between them - this all-encompassing love and companionship and their looming, beautiful future - maybe it’s always been a little crazy.

Maybe Derek lives to drive Will crazy a little bit too.

Any of those reasons would be enough to bring Derek to his knees, but at the end of the day, it’s the way that Will’s hands are warm against his face. It’s the way that Will’s smile meets his eyes more often than not, and the way that Derek’s entire body thrills to see that tenderness.

The hotel’s carpeting is rough beneath his knees when he drops to Will’s level. It feels cheap and utilitarian, and it would probably light up like a Pollock painting under a blacklight, but in the moment, there is literally nowhere else that Derek would rather be.

“Babe. _William_. You are single-handedly the most beautiful, frustrating, belligerent person I’ve ever met. You challenge me every day to be better - to _do_ better - so that I can be the best version of myself… and I know that whatever we face together in the future? We’re going to be facing it as the best versions of ourselves. As partners. And there’s no one else that I want to fight with.

“Babe, there’s no one else that I want to fight _for_. So, since we already know that your family is down, and since we don’t want to give Gramma Earl a stroke, and because I’d want to do this regardless… William Poindexter, will you marry me?”

By the time he’s done talking, Derek’s heart is beating out of his chest (which is crazy - this whole thing is crazy) and there are tears in his eyes, and Will looks so soft. He looks beautiful, which is probably why Derek doesn’t see the punch to the arm coming.

“Fuck, that hurt! What the fuck?”

“You just had to one-up me, you bastard. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? You know I’m no good with my words, not like you.”

“You say _yes_. I don’t need sonnets, and I don’t need you to be anything other than yourself. I just need you. I-”

“Oh my god, shut up, the answer is yes.”

If it was anything else they were fighting over, Derek would probably be offended. At the very least, he’d pretend to be, but as it is, all he can do is smile. Because Will said yes, and they’re gonna do it.

“I love you,” Derek says, leaning close enough so that every syllable gusts against Will’s lips, and from there… well, Mr. P always says that the best part of fighting is making up.

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thank yous to Dizzyredhead and raspberrycordial for their endless patience and encouragement as I took what felt like ten years to fill this prompt. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also, in case anyone was wondering, this is the postcard that Derek received from Gramma Earl...
> 
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/141307537@N07/41479227010/in/photostream/)


End file.
